


Precious Potential

by Dirtcore Dreams (NakedEye)



Series: Kink My 'Tober 2019 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Businessmen, Cheating, Desk Sex, Dom/sub Play, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Sugar Daddy, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 10:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedEye/pseuds/Dirtcore%20Dreams
Summary: Isaac would do anything to keep his job, including being bent over by the boss. He just never expected that might become what he'd like best about it.





	Precious Potential

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, this one's a little fucky guys. Nothing super crazy, but Chris isn't exactly nice in this and Isaac's state of mind isn't exactly sound. So watch yourselves if you're sensitive to stuff like that.

Isaac wasn’t sure if it was meant to be demeaning at first. He hadn’t really cared. He needed this fucking job and if that meant kissing the feet of some big wig so up his ass he could see his own lunch? Well that was infinitely better than whatever might be waiting if he had to move back home. Chris Argent may have been the terror of his illustrious company, but he was nothing compared to Isaac’s dad.

Maybe that’s what thrilled him. Maybe that’s what flipped the tone from one day to the next. Because it used to be flippant. Chris would throw folders at him, forget his name, not look him in the eyes once during an entire day without a single thought. He didn’t think about the way he treated Isaac in the way Issac didn’t mind smacking around the shitty coffee maker and calling it obscenities.

He had been a thing which fulfilled a very singular purpose. He __was __the janky espresso maker. He mostly took up space, occasionally fulfilled a casual desire. He tended to fuck it up pretty regularly, but never in a way that made it worth getting rid of him. In most ways he was sure he was the standard twenty something intern.

But Chris was keen. He hadn’t made something of this company without a sharp intuition, sharper eyes. He was smart and cutthroat and brazen. Which is why Isaac wasn’t as surprised as he should have been the day he perfectly delivered Chris’ highly specific lunch and then was rewarded with his boss purring “Good boy,” into his ear, groping him right at the bottom of his asscheeks.

He squeaked, turned red, but let it happen. It felt nice. To get something right. To be told just that. To have positive attention. He knew it was inappropriate in so many ways. The work dynamic. The age gap. The ring on Chris’ finger.

But he deserved something after all this bullshit, right? After everything life had thrown at him, couldn’t he just take what was given? Beggars aren’t choosers and pleasure was beyond a rarity. “Is there anything else I could… please you with, sir?” His words felt almost as bold to him as Chris’ touch and those bright blue eyes sparked with amusement.

So it started there. Every task he completed with precision, he was rewarded. He heard “Good boy” more than his own name. He’d had his chest, ass, cock groped in every square inch of the office. He’d had the shell of his ear licked, his tie yanked, his legs kicked open. Chris’ hands were so sure guiding him by his waist, so demanding pressing him to bend at his lower back, so devastating as they pushed into his mouth to depress his tongue and pry him open.

“You’re so pretty like this.”

“You take me so well.”

“I love it when you beg.”

He ate them up like a dog performing for table scraps. The affection was addicting. He’d do anything for it, he didn’t care. Dry cleaning cum from Chris’ suits was not demeaning. Being on his knees in the bathroom was not demeaning. Warming cock underneath the desk, trying to keep quiet during a teleconference was not demeaning.

Isaac had been called nothing. He’d been treated like nothing. He’d been locked away and forgotten. Chris craved him. Chris took him on lunch breaks and called him on weekends and demanded he be brought on international trips. Chris bought him new clothes and gave him expensive food and made him come over and over and over again.

“It’s like you were made for this,” he once remarked, complete awe in his voice as he dragged his spit soaked dick across the bridge of Isaac’s nose, smacked it against his cheeks. “You are perfect, boy. I could not dream up, design, manufacture a better cocksleeve than you.”

And it nearly made Isaac cry. Chris was a brilliant man, an important man. He __owned __a portion of the world and he was enraptured with Isaac. He ran hands through his curls and fucked his throat and even spooned him after. “Keep this up and maybe I’ll make you more than my assistant. The missus never loved me, but I’m sure she’d love if I stopped asking for it at home. How would you like that, huh? A built in suite for my special, little cum bucket?”

Isaac practically preened, stretching out his lanky body in ecstasy and rolling around to look Chris in his face, kiss him on the lips. “Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy.” And it was true.

“You really are something, kid.” And for the first time ever, Isaac believed that.


End file.
